I
was "called up" for National Service in the
First Intake - 1 July 1965. After Basic, Medical
Corps, and Jungle Training, I served with two
other units before being posted to 5RAR - just
days before the last of the Battalion left for
Vietnam.

As the junior company medic of 5RAR, I served
with a number of companies but did not know many
Battalion members well. At the time of the
incident referred to, I was attached to BHQ,
serving both Support and Admin Companies. I did
not know Trevor personally.

On the morning of 17 October 1966, 5RAR began a
clearing operation of the Nui Thi Vai mountain
complex. BHQ was following A Company from
Highway 15 in a fairly straight line towards the
mountain. I was situated near the end of the BHQ
group. At the base of the mountain, at least one
mine was set off by A Company. BHQ then split
off from A Company and set off up the hill
following a steep track.

There were many huge boulders on each side of
the track, with thick undergrowth and tall
trees. Shortly afterwards we were halted by
rifle fire from higher up the track, where we
remained for a long time. During this halt, a
mortar bomb mine was found close to where we
stopped. There was spasmodic rifle fire, and I
heard that we had taken some casualties from
snipers in caves. A small chopper came in
underneath overhanging trees and took them away
(the pilot was later decorated for this). We
then continued on up the hill until we arrived
at a pagoda about sundown, and set up a
defensive perimeter for the night.

Either the next morning or the day after that,
the Assault Pioneers and myself (there may have
been others) set off down the hill to assault
the cave system (probably better described as a
hillside covered by huge boulders on top of each
other) with flame throwers which had been
choppered in. The assault was under the command
of Lt John Macalony. We descended the steep
track, and as we neared the caves I was detailed
with three others to take up position on the
left slope above and adjacent to the caves to
provide covering fire into the cave mouths. As
we moved into position between huge boulders, I
located a cache of boxes behind one enormous
rock (it later turned out to be over 100 pounds
of Chinese TNT).

Trevor Lynch and another soldier (whose name I
cannot recall) had been detailed to make the
actual assault with the back pack flame
throwers. We did not see their initial approach,
but suddenly there was the almighty crack of a
mine detonation, followed by loud screaming.
With clearance from the section leader I was
with, I made my way back to the track and down
then out to where the wounded lay.

To say I was scared stiff would be a gross
understatement. The two men lay immediately in
front of the caves which had numerous entrances
with little cover. I recall feeling very lonely
and totally exposed.

My memory from this time is somewhat doubtful. I
must have examined both soldiers in accordance
with my medical training, and decided that the
other man, although wounded in the back and
legs, could wait.

I turned my attention to Trevor, who was
screaming in a demented fashion and writhing on
the ground. He had sustained multiple wounds; in
fact his was the most mutilated human body I had
ever seen and ever want to. I had great
difficulty deciding where to start as he had
dozens of bleeding wounds, some of them very
serious, broken limbs and many facial injuries.
The front of his body was a mass of puncture
wounds. I remember as I started applying wound
dressings that I had to tie Trevor's hands
together to stop him dislodging dressings and
doing himself more damage. I recall that I was
crying at one point due to the frustration I
felt in trying stop blood loss from so many
wounds at once. I doubt if Trevor was aware at
that time of anything, and his wild screaming
continued unabated, but I do recall that Capt
Tony White, the 5RAR RMO, joined me at some
stage prior to Trevor being moved.

From this point I cannot recall what happened
for some time that day, as I was probably in
shock myself. I do not know how many wounds I
treated, nor from where or when he was
casevaced, and whether I treated the other
soldier at all or what his specific injuries
were. I cannot recall whether I (or Doc White)
inserted a drip into Trevor's arm to bolster his
blood supply, but am sure this would have been
done.

My memory continues for later that afternoon,
and I remember my role in the cave assault and
clearance. The layout of the cave mouths, the
track, and that part of the mountain, remain
clear to me today. It may have been that
evening, but probably some days later I was
advised Trevor was still alive, was blinded, and
was still riddled with shrapnel. I recall being
very surprised as I firmly believed he would die
from his many wounds.

After I returned to Australia with 5RAR, I
underwent nose surgery in July 1967 for an
injury sustained while with D Company during our
stay at the "Horseshoe". While in the Repat
Hospital in Adelaide, I happened to be placed in
the same large ward as Trevor was then in.
Although he was partly deaf, I managed to
communicate daily with him for the few days I
was incapacitated there. When he couldn't
understand, I spelt the word to him by writing
it on his hand with my finger, letter by letter.
He could not remember anything about the
incident which caused his injuries, and wanted
to learn what had happened. I was able "Little
by Little" (the RAAMC Motto) to describe to him
what I recalled of that ghastly day.

After my discharge, I lost touch with Trevor,
mainly through interstate transfers in my
career, but memories of him and that traumatic
occasion remained with me, and became a frequent
nightmare as PTSD slowly affected my life. It
has definitely been the most frightening day of
my life.

I did not see Trevor again until nearly 30 years
later - 7 April 1997 at a hospice in Adelaide. I
had been contacted the previous day by another
Vet (who was not ex-5RAR) who had been caring
for Trevor, and whom I did not know. He had
somehow found out about the experience Trevor
and I had shared, and told me that Trevor had
cancer, and was near death. During my visit to
him, Trevor was unable to speak, and was
obviously close to death. His Vet carer, who was
present with us, assured me that Trevor realised
who I was, and that he seemed glad to have
re-established contact again.

Trevor died on 8 April 1997, at the age of 51,
after miraculously surviving shocking injuries
from one of man's worst weapons of war - the
antipersonnel mine

Although it was very traumatic personally seeing
Trevor again the day before he died, I am very
glad I did. I attended his funeral the next day
and said goodbye (with a small group of people)
to a very brave individual, who appeared to have
made the best that he could out of his short
tragic life.